


Dean's Only One

by WinchesterJuices



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Drunkenness, Incest, M/M, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, Young Dean, Young Dean Winchester, Young Love, Young Sam, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterJuices/pseuds/WinchesterJuices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds himself in drunken musings about his past love life and feels ashamed. He wishes that he had saved himself for his true love, instead of hiding his feelings with irrelevant women. (Wincest/Weecest, first chapter SFW)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean's Only One

   The tang of whisky lingers through Dean’s grimace as he loses track of which fingers represent which numbers, counting his past flings. The number was too big to begin with, and he knew that, but he wanted to try anyway. A history of large breasts, delicious sweat, and sensual moans passes behind Dean’s drooping eyelids, but past doesn’t excite him anymore. Actually, as he relives the women he’s used and abused in a mostly consensual way, it makes him feel… guilty. Ashamed. In the moment, it was the most exhilarating and rewarding thing to show as many women as possible how he could make them feel like the world revolved around them, how he could give them such passion and reverence, that he could serve them in a way they had never dreamed of. As Dean slouches in the scratchy motel armchair, he wishes he had never done that with anyone… There’s only one person he wants to know about the affection he has to offer — the love he can show and express. It’s too late now. Dean has lost count of the times that he has unknowingly cheated who would be the only person he would love. The only person he _could_ love.

 

   Dean thinks back to when he knew he really was in love. For the first time, truly in love with someone. Not just wanted to fuck for a really long time, or even get to know them better, but really love. It was many years ago now, in the heat of summer. They had been wrestling under his father’s supervision, testing Judo techniques and goofing off when critiquing eyes were turned away. Practice was over, and they went from wrestling to tumbling on the soft grass of the forest clearing they had found. They stopped rolling around to just lay beside each other and watch the clouds pass. Dean had propped himself on his elbow to look down at a 13 year old Sam, and he saw that Sam was still smiling, panting to catch his breath. Sam’s hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight as they found Dean’s.

 

   “Tired, shrimp?” Dean had teased. “Or did I take your breath away?”

 

   “Shut up, De,” Sam retorted. “Actually, you did take my breath away. When you swept my ankle and I fell on my back, jerk.”

 

   “Bitch,” Dean laughed. Time passed, and Dean still hadn’t moved. Sam’s eyes had shifted between the sky and Dean. His eyes touched Dean’s body in an innocent, admiring way that had Dean’s heart racing.

 

   “Dean, can I ask you a question?” Sam asked weakly, eyes flicking from Dean’s chest to his eyes.

 

   “You didn’t ask if you could ask that one, but I let you.” Dean replied. He didn’t mean to be a smart ass, but it had just become a reflex by that point.

 

   Sam just sighed. “How do you know if you’re in love?”

 

   _Wow, big question_ , Dean had thought. “Well… Um…” It took a minute to organize his thoughts into an answer. “First, you care about them. More than anything. Sometimes more than yourself.”

 

   Sam’s eyes widened a little, but he waited for Dean to continue.

 

   “And you think of them all the time. Like, you’ll go off in little fantasies. All different kinds.” Dean took a moment to rack his brain for more signs and noticed how entrained Sam was on him — so expectant. “You want to protect them. You want to make sure that they’re safe and that no one will hurt them. You’d fight for them until your body gave out, and then probably some more. You want to know everything about them. Not just what they like, but what they think of, why they do the little things they don’t even notice, what they look like when they wake up…”

 

   “And what else?” Sam encouraged.

 

   “and… you just know. You know deep down if you love them or not, no matter what you want to think.”

 

   It was in that moment that Dean had felt way down in his chest — in his heart — that he loved Sam. He realized that he had a pure, raw love for his brother, but it wasn’t until later that he figured out exactly what that meant.

 

   16 year old Sam closed Dean’s door as he walked into the bedroom. Dean had been jamming out on his bed to Nirvana and was smoking a cigarette he had stolen from their dad. When Dean noticed Sam looking troubled, he crushed the cigarette and put his CD player aside. Sam didn’t look directly at Dean and he was unusually still with his eyes burning through the floor. It wasn’t until Dean had said “Sup, bro?” that his brother moved, walking toward the bed and dropping a piece of paper on it.

 

   “What is this?” Sam asked coldly.

 

   Dean had picked up the paper and glanced over the words written on it. His stomach sank to his toes. _No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How did he find it?_

 

   Sam quoted the last lines of the note, “’I’m fucked up, Sammy. I’m supposed to watch over you, and I will. You just won’t know it. It’s better this way. Don’t look for me.’ What the fuck is this, Dean? Are you leaving?”

 

   Dean swore through his teeth before addressing Sam. “Sam, that’s nothing. I didn’t mean it, it was just… Look, I’m not going anywhere, Sammy. I would never leave you.” Dean knew well why he wrote it. He had planned on leaving, but was still thinking it over. No one was supposed to find that goodbye later because not even he was sure if he was going to use it.

 

   “Because you love me?” Sam asked bluntly. “… _in_ love with me?”

 

   “Shit, Sammy, that’s not what I meant.” Dean crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash.

 

   “Really? Because you wrote that you’ve always ‘wanted me’. You said that you didn’t want me to love anyone else but you, and then went on to say how fucked up you are because of it. That sounds like you meant it, Dean.”

 

   “Look, just forget it. I want drunk, ok? I wasn’t thinking straight!”

 

   “We haven’t had any alcohol in the cabin for a week because we can’t afford it. If you love me, you can just say it, Dean. It’s ok.”

 

   “Are you retarded? That’s not ok! Nothing about that is ok! If I liked you like that, Sammy, I’d lock my own self in a whacky shack.”

 

   “…It wouldn’t be that bad, really. I mean, I wouldn’t mind it if you did.” Sam’s aggression had gone tentative in an instance. His shoulders fell and his eyes wouldn’t rest.

 

   “What do you mean? That’s incest, Sammy. How in hell is that not bad?”

 

   “I dunno, De.  We murder, steal money, lie to government officials… Incest doesn’t really seem that bad in comparison.”

 

   Dean was thrown off of his defensive stance. “What are you saying?”

 

   Sam crawled onto the bed, sitting with his legs folded under himself. “We’re both fucked up, Dean. Look at our lives. We’re the worst people that I know.” Sam had moved closer to him, resting his hand on Dean’s stomach. Dean’s abs flexed at the touch.

 

   “What are you doing, Sammy?” Dean asked in a quiet, strained voice.

 

   “What if I told you…” Sam started, “that you’re not the only one with those feelings?” When Dean was silent, Sam continued, “I’ve wanted you too, Dean. I do want you. Not just… like a brother. I _want_ you. All of you.”

 

   Dean was afraid to speak — afraid to move. He was scared that if he broke his stillness, it would lead to something that he would regret forever and hurt Sam. Instead, he watched Sam closely like a statue as Sam’s hand smoothed up his shirt onto his chest and as Sam lay down beside him. Dean’s head turned ever so slightly to Sam, and Sam’s turned in to match. Before he knew what happened, Sam’s face had moved so close that he could feel Sam’s breath on his cheek. And then their lips touched. When he felt Sam’s soft, adolescent lips pressing gently to his, Dean’s stony spell had broken down. Dean brought his hand up to frame his brother’s jaw and draw him closer. That was the first time that Dean had kissed Sam. He refused to remove any clothing, still feeling like anything more could damage Sam even more than he guessed he already had. To Sam’s delight, their relationship had gotten more physical over the years.

 

   Dean wishes he hadn’t tried to drown his feelings for Sam with women. It hadn’t worked, anyway. As some highschool girl who had fallen prey to him would give an ecstatic whimper, Dean would wonder what it would have been like if Sam had made that noise. As tender hands would wrap around his back, smoothing and clawing, Dean couldn’t help the image of Sam clinging to him overlapping the reality. On the rare occasion that Dean would fall asleep with a girl, he would nestle her into his chest and nod off to sleep, forgetting that it wasn’t Sam’s long hair tucked under his chin… until morning, when he would nearly jump out of the bed in shock.

 

   The sound of the door opening and closing snaps Dean out of his somber musings. He looks up as Sam drops a dollar store bag of passable groceries on the floor, ready to fight tomorrow’s cravings when they hit the road. Sam looks up and his face falls as he assesses Dean’s state. “Not again…” he mumbles.

 

   “What?” Dean asks dumbly.

 

   “Seriously, Dean? Four nights in a row?” Sam shakes his head as he strides over to Dean. “Whisky, right? God, you’ve almost downed the whole bottle, too. You keep doing this and you just get depressed and end up crying all over me. Come here.” Sam grabbed Dean’s arms and leaned back, hauling him out of the seat. Dean leans against Sam for support, but makes it to plop on the edge of the bed. Sam grabbed Dean’s shirt and begins to pull it off, getting him ready for bed, but Dean struggles against him.

 

   “Can doet mself” Dean grumbles as he shrugs the shirt off with way more effort than if he had let Sam help, but he doesn’t care.

 

   Sam sighs and ignores Dean’s protests, dragging him onto the bed and removing his shoes. He loosens Dean’s jeans and pulls them off. Dean lays back and stops resisting. Sam strips himself down and gets them both into the covers. As soon as they do, Dean instantly clings to Sam. Sam sighs and strokes his brother’s back because he knows what’s coming.

 

   “’m so sorry, Sammy. I never shoulda messed with those girls. Only loved you, baby. ‘m sorry…”

 

   “I know, Dean. I know you are. It’s ok.” Sam presses soft kisses into Dean’s hair. “It’s really ok.”

 

   “No it’s not.” Dean tries to convey deep, complicated feelings with a serious face, but his drunkenness strains his articulation. His eyes turn red as he tries anyway by saying, “Shoulda saved it all fer you. Never shoulda touched any of ‘em.”

 

   Sam’s eyebrows bunch with pained compassion for his brother. He thumbs away the first tear as it runs down Dean’s cheek. “You didn’t want to hurt me, is all. No one can blame you for that. But look, Dean. Feel this?” Sam gives Dean’s scruffy cheek a kiss. “That’s me. That’s us. Right now. That’s all that matters.”

 

   Dean seems to let that settle in his mind, and, after a moment, a smile tries at his face. Sam trails his finger across the freckles on Dean’s nose and cheek before giving him another kiss, luring Dean into the present. “Need you, Sammy,” Dean mutters between drunk-lazy kisses. He lets Sam coax his head onto Sam’s chest, already half asleep.

 

   Sam lays his head back onto the pillow and stares up at the blank ceiling, stroking Dean’s shoulder with his thumb where Dean hugs him. He’ll be glad when the next day finally arrives, because he knows that Dean won’t be getting hammered and emotional. However, there’s a certain something about guiding his brother through the guilts of his past love life. It’s nights like these that show how much his brother really loves him — above anyone else. He gets to see that Dean treasures their relationship more than the ones he would talk on and on about, sharing every detail about the girl and what they did. Sam sees now that it was in an effort to get him hot and bothered, imagining what being intimate with Dean would be like, and it worked. Sam would stay up for hours at night thinking about Dean being with other girls, showing them love and affection they had never experienced, imagining himself in their place. Sometimes Sam would even cry at the thought that Dean was in love with them and wouldn’t care as much about him. The past is what it is, though, and every fiber of Sam’s body and soul is eternally grateful that it IS the past and is staying in the past. A smile pulls at Sam’s lips with the knowing that he finally has what he’s always wanted pressed up against him and lightly drooling.

**Author's Note:**

> Three comments for smut, and I'll add it in the next chapter :)


End file.
